Ahead of his Time, Adrian Cousins [short story to read .txt] 📗

The blonde pointed at a woman a few feet behind the bloke she was shouting at.

“Sarah, for Christ’s sake, you’re overreacting!” the bloke responded.

Not wishing for Jenny’s special evening to be remembered for some catfight between two women brawling over a man, I thought I’d just step in and calm the waters.

“Sorry to interrupt. But this is a works’ event, and you’re representing your workplace. I think it’s best you take your argument elsewhere so everyone else can continue to enjoy the party,” I calmly delivered to both of them.

The bloke looked for a second like he might punch me. But I guessed I appeared to be the respectable fifty-two-year-old that I was, so he changed his mind. Both he and the woman calmed down as my school teacher persona appeared to have worked, but more so because they both recognised me.

The bloke turned, huffed and walked off. The young blonde looked at me, and I instantly recognised her. I hadn’t seen her for a few years now, but I would never forget her as she had been a significant part of my new life.

“Sarah … Sarah Moore?”

“Oh, sorry, Mr Apsley. It’s my boyfriend … he’s being a right tosser.”

“Don’t think you need to call me that any more. My name is Jason.”

“Oh, Mr Apsley, I’m a bit embarrassed now.”

“Jason ... I’m not your teacher now.”

“Yes, I know. But have to call you Mr Apsley … I just do.”

“Okay. Are you alright?”

Sarah scraped back her hair and huffed. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. I think it’s time Scott and I went home. But thanks again.”

I touched her arm. “Alright. Well, you take care, won’t you?”

~

It had been a long time since I’d thought about Martin, but seeing his mother tonight brought those memories back. Jenny was fast asleep, but I was restless so, not wishing to wake her, I plucked up my book and decamped to my office. I made myself comfortable in my brown-leather studded chair and read for a while, hoping diving into my latest time-travel adventure book would calm my brain.

As I sat there in the early hours of Sunday 16th August, I thought about Martin and Sarah. I wondered what would’ve happened if Martin hadn’t died in that Cortina back in 1977. Assuming back then we had rid the town of the Fairfield rapist when Paul Colney had died, I thought Sarah was now safe. The few years after that event, there were no reports of a serial rapist on the loose so I deduced we’d solved that problem. Martin was born in May 1988 and, as he was the product of the attack Sarah suffered, that event should have happened or about to happen. Feeling safe in the knowledge that Sarah’s life wasn’t now going to take that route in this timeline, I settled into reading my book.

I regularly read time-travel books because I enjoyed seeing what mere mortals wrote about a subject they couldn’t possibly know anything about. Often, I found myself tutting and muttering – “Ridiculous, that wouldn’t happen!”

52

Gold Dust

Detective Constable Kevin Reeves pulled out his cigarettes from inside his jacket, lifting his bum from the driver’s seat to retrieve his lighter from his trouser pocket.

“Not while I’m in the car,” came the response from the passenger seat.

“Ma’am?” Kevin questioned, as he held the cigarettes and looked at the Guv, hoping she would relent.

DI Heather French just raised her eyebrows, and that was enough for the young detective constable to replace the packet back in his pocket.

Heather had been promoted to DI last year, and this new position now gave her the power and the resources to start cleaning up this town. She knew DC Reeves thought tonight’s stake-out operation was a waste of time, as the vast majority of her team had since they started these covert operations some weeks ago. Heather suspected Kevin would probably rather be in town getting pissed with his mates. But she was the DI, so he just had to do as he was told.

Since joining the force in the early ’70s, Heather had endured years of mickey-taking from her male counterparts. There were constant referrals to the size of her chest and what they’d like to do to it. All of them, including senior officers, would publicly offer lude remarks and suggestions. This barrage of sexist taunts, along with having her arse pinched and chest fondled, hadn’t changed even when she’d joined CID. She’d started to gain some respect when she passed her sergeant exams, but now as DI, things were very different.

Along with many of her colleagues, Heather had a thirst to bring down the Colney and Gower families. The Gowers would prove a tougher nut to crack, but in time she would. The Colneys were as good as wiped out, with two of the brothers dead and one serving a long stretch. That just left one still on the loose. But she knew it would only be a matter of time, and she’d arrest him for some misdemeanour.

Ten years ago, when still a PC in uniform, a series of rapes went undetected. At the time, Heather had raised with her sergeant that she didn’t believe enough resources were being assigned to catch the evil bastard. However, after being ignored and balled out by the DI at the time, she was encouraged to stop voicing her concerns.

The rapes in the late ’70s, which were all committed near the Broxworth Estate, ceased almost as quickly as they’d begun. She believed it was no coincidence that this happened at the exact same time when Paul Colney had ended up skewered on a windscreen wiper. Also, there had been several retracted sexual assault allegations against Paul at the time. Women had come forward and then changed their stories, presumably once they’d received pressure from the Colneys.

Ten years later and, almost coinciding with her promotion to DI, a series of rapes had started again, and all of them in and around the Broxworth Estate. Heather had